


right behind you (as before)

by Anonymous



Series: les petits princes et leurs petit ami [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Friends With Benefits, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-23 15:19:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11405109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Artemi doesn't think it's weird.





	right behind you (as before)

**Author's Note:**

> re: underage specifically pat is 16, artemi is 15.

The morning sun hasn't peered through the horizon, but Artemi enjoys these early hours where he can lay in bed and swim in these lazy hours, comfortable as can be. Unfortunately this is not his home. This is not his bed. To top it off, the jet lag of yesterday's travels motions him awake.

The First Family has invited the Tsar and Tsarina - of course, Artemi - this coming week as a special guest for Thanksgiving. It is not a holiday the Russian Empire celebrates, but their invitation - and their subsequent attendance - is a tradition that began after the Second World War. His grandparents will arrive on Wednesday, but Artemi flew in a week in advance for his own tradition. Only the Queen and her staff knew of his planned arrival.

He stretches out his limbs before sliding on some pajama pants. He wanders through the main corridor and down the grand staircase to the main floor. Portraits of past kings line the walls, along with historical moments that Artemi vaguely recollects from his private classes. His mind is only working the bare minimum, knowing he'll be asleep soon. Guards and staff members address him with "Your Royal Highness" and far too formal bows that Artemi shies away from, more attention than he expected to receive at this hour. He quickly veers to the left, down the long hall where the children sleep. Each door is identical except for the smallest of marks left along the trim of the door frame. It is a small drawing Erica made when Pat was away, and while it seems out of place in the ornate décor, Pat firmly forbade anyone from painting over it.

He taps at the door, being courteous to the other sleeping Kanes. No answer. He turns the knob and isn't surprised to find that it's not locked. Some nights Pat's sisters have nightmares and come to him because he is their white knight that scares away all the monsters that creep in the night.

Pat rustles minutely when the sound of his footsteps cause the hardwood floor to creak. Artemi knows Pat won't wake for another few hours, so he pulls back the covers and curls up next to him. Pat lessens the distance between them, murmuring incoherent thoughts from beyond a dream.

Artemi looks for a moment, seeing his friend - the one from his earliest memories where both were dragged along to state functions, the one that wanted to play in the courtyard on a snowy night, the one that he saw as recently as this summer and all the other iterations of Patrick Kane he has met along the way, each bleeding into one another, forming the familiar face he sees now. They only share short pockets of time together, being that they live so far apart and the royal duties that occupy their life, but these brief stolen moments are the only times they have to be themselves, unguarded and unafraid and uninhibited.

He wonders what this world would look like, wonders how chance would bring them together. Pat gives a little snore, and it breaks his thoughts, reminding him that there's sleep to be had. He tucks his hand over the expansion of skin where Pat's pajamas have ridden up, finding comfort in the gesture they have often shared. He presses closer into the lull of sleep.

He swims between consciousness and dream. He hears the rumblings of morning in the distance, yet the warmth of being in bed on this winter morning eases his mind. And then he's no longer floating, instead jerked back to reality by Pat's movements. He's crawling away to the foot of the bed with urgency, as if burned. He looks panicked. Artemi is confused; his brain doesn't registering anything to cause the alarm on Pat's face. He sits up, running a hand through his hair, patting his face - the normalcy of it grounding him into the present and not the soft, sort of dreams he was having.

He face plants back onto the bed because Patrick is flustered but isn't saying anything, so he's going to wait him out. Yet the bed is uncomfortably cold without him. He groans at him, poking him with his toes as if that will convey his unhappiness with the situation.

"I'm sorry."

With his face half smashed into a pillow, Artemi peeks open with one eye. "Then get over here already," he whines. His hand barely reaches his foot, which Pat draws back into himself.

"I - I can't."

The worry in his voice alarms Artemi, whose dreams are now abandoned. Pat looks apologetic as fuck, and Artemi doesn't understand why until he takes in Pat fully and notices that he's hard.

It's nothing new. It's not like they don't talk about these things, like they haven't talked about the awkwardness of popping one while attending to princely duties. The worst was during a ball his grandmother hosted. She requested that he'd dance with the niece of another governor. All the while Pat watched him, waiting as was their norm, but Artemi itched to be free to go kiss him, so much so that he was hard at the thought. Pat saw it first, grinning wickedly, and that triggered a fierce blush that worried the girl until she too took notice and immediately ran from the ballroom. The only thing louder than her footsteps out the door was Pat's laughter. Pat still thinks he was turned on by the girl, asking what she said or did.

Since Pat - they - confessed, Pat has been withdrawn at times. They've kissed since then, heavy make outs even, like nothing was ever wrong to begin with. Still learning how much biting is good, how much will be obvious after, where else it felt good to have their lips on. But their dicks haven't been invited the party. Not actively. After the horrifying moment with the girl, they went back to his game room, but Pat seemed uninterested. He put down his PS2 controller and crammed himself into Artemi's space, forcing Artemi to reach up to chase his lips while Pat hovered over him, his knees so close to his crotch. He felt the heat radiating from Pat. His mind was distracted by it, even with Pat's hands holding him right where he wanted him, no idea what to down with his own hands. He was hard, but the space between them remained. The kissing was - always is - nice. Artemi doesn't complain.

He doesn't like the distance that's forming between them, doesn't like how Pat is trying to hide a part of himself, as if suddenly Artemi will take back everything. He stretches forward until his hand grasps him, and he gently tugs Pat closer, erasing the space. Sliding back until he hits the headboard, he guides a very hesitant Pat into a backwards embrace, hoping this will ease the moment. With his head hooked over his shoulder, pressed as close as can be, Artemi tells him in silence that nothing has changed between them; Artemi is here for as long as Pat wants him. It's frightening and dumb idea to allow another person to decide such a thing, to give another the power to remove every trace of you at their whim, but Artemi trusts Pat a frightening and dumb amount.

Pat pulls at his sleeves, covering his palms, before deciding to hug him back. "When did you get in?"

"Last night." He quietly cheers that Pat's talking.

"You're in my bed."

Artemi hears the edge of a question. He could say 'I missed you,' but he always misses Pat. "I can leave," he teases, bumping his head against Pat's.

"Why isn't this weird for you?"

"Should it be?" It's an honest question. Kissing your best friend isn't how normal friendships operate, Artemi knows this, but it doesn't have to be weird. Not if it's something they both want.

"My dick is hard literally inches from your hand."

Up to now, Artemi was being courteous by not looking because Pat was clearly ashamed about it. He does look now, and it gives Artemi an idea. His voice comes out soft but eager. "I can help you with that." Pat sits so still, and Artemi just chuckles a bit, knocking heads again, and waits until Pat is looking at him, so flushed. 

"You can't be serious. Why would you even say that?" 

"Because you have a boner and won't let me sleep." Pat looks mortified, guilty even. Artemi rolls his eyes because Pat doesn't get it. "No boner, no problem. Yeah?" 

Pat nods at least. 

He grabs on to Pat's right hand because he always needs to go something with his hands, or his goddamn mouth. It's a shame from this position he really can't kiss Pat, but he's free from the momentary awkwardness of doing this face to face for the first time. His hand will thank him, too. 

He leans back against the pillows he props up at the headboard and brings Pat properly between his legs, opening Pat's, making it quite obvious what will happen next. He makes Pat take off his briefs along with his pajama bottoms because he wants to see everything. He doesn't say it. There are things that Artemi is too shy admit aloud, even to Pat. He runs a finger down his front and then a hand up underneath his shirt. There's still a softness to him, but year by year it's fading, the muscle more prominently defined. For now Artemi's a scrawny stick besides him, but he comforted by the knowledge that he's not as weak as he seems. 

Pat is mostly naked now, naked where it matters, only his own pants separating them, and there's something so exciting about seeing and touching his skin, skin that's always covered up and seen only in private. He gapes at the sight before him until Pat gives him a firm "hey" to get on with it. Laughing quietly he wraps his hand around Pat's dick, feeling how hard he is and anticipating how much harder he could be. He closes his eyes to just feel it in his hand, pulls the skin gently down and up before licking his palm. Pat watches him all the while. Artemi feels the blush so strongly on his face. It makes it all too real what he wants to do.

Some part of Artemi was waiting for this - hoping, wishing for it. Never specifically about Pat, not until Pat said he liked boys and they kissed and they continued to kiss and it felt too good to deny. He's always wanted to try, to feel what it could be like with a guy. 

Pat wraps his hand around Artemi's, guiding him, teaching him how he wants it. While Artemi knows how to jerk his own dick, this is new. The familiarity is there, but he'll happily admit how much bigger Pat is, how his grip closes differently. This isn't _his_ pleasure. His mind's disconnected but full enthralled. His focus is diverted when Pat lets go of his hand, choosing to grip Artemi's thigh instead. At times Pat presses his nails into his skin when Artemi's touch does something particularly good, giving a small, contained gasp, and it feels so good. If only Artemi wasn't wearing pajamas, if only it was against his skin, if only it could leave a mark - not just a temporary impression. Pat melts further onto Artemi, stretching his legs wider as he lets Artemi do as he wants. 

But Pat is abnormally quiet, and that won't do. He licks at his exposed neck, peppering little kisses all the way to his ear. 

Pat cuts offs a groan. "Don't," he pants. Artemi feels Pat's cock twitch in his hand, and it's pearling so beautifully. He does it again, sucking longer at his lobe, and Pat shutters completely. 

"Come on, Patty. That can't be all you have to say." 

"I can feel your dick, too, you dick." Artemi laughs. "You like this as much as I do." 

"I do, don't I?" He thrusts forward against Pat, trying to take the edge off his own erection. But then Pat is moving his hips, providing another gentle pressure, so pleasant that he moans. Pat loses his self-consciousness after that, gasping encouragements that not only Artemi hears but feels vibrating beneath his lips while he nips at Pat's neck, his ear, his jaw, wherever he can reach. He settles at the curve of his neck with the firm insistence of Pat – his hand tangled in his hair. He's twisting a nipple, wishing he could put his mouth on it, when he glances down at his other hand just as Pat comes. 

An "Oh God" falls from his lips as his cum spills onto Pat's front and Artemi's hand. Pat falls limp against his chest, eyes closed as his breathing slows, calm and even. Artemi is still not over the sight before him. He wipes off the cum on Pat's bare thigh. Pat grimaces as Artemi spreads it around, enjoying Pat's weak protests. 

"How are you so okay with this – with being gay, or sort of gay?" Pat's voice is lighter than it was when Artemi asked to touch his dick. Whether he's blissed out or accepting of whatever it is they are doing, Artemi's not sure. Either way the question settles bitterly inside him. 

"I am the Russian prince. I have a duty to my country above all else." He's heard these words often enough. They don't feel like his own when he says them. Maybe they are his grandmother's words or his grandfather's or his parents' or everyone that felt entitled to give their opinion of how he should live his life. "I will lose parts of myself for my country, as every king before me has done, but I have time. I will take what I can get." He whispers, "I won't get to have this. Not when I'm king." 

"It doesn't have to be like that," Pat says, as if knows it could be true. 

"It's okay. I've accepted it. I can come to love whoever my grandparents decide for me. But this part of myself, I don't want to hide it away forever. If I can have it – even if it's just for a moment – I want to take it." He strokes Patrick, just to feel the tremor run through his body, feel it against his skin. Pat's hand comes up as if to stop him, but he only tightens Artemi's hold on his cock for a brief second, sighing into the pressure. 

But then Pat is turning around, and he doesn't want to see his pity. Pat is never really happy until everyone around him is, as if it's his responsibility. As if it's his failure. He doesn't want this to be some episode of his bleeding heart, but that's the person he is – full of kindness. He doesn't smile for himself but for others, until theirs is as warm as his own. Still, somethings are outside of their control and cannot be fixed. 

Except the look on Pat's face isn't pity. His lips are so swollen. Artemi wonders when that happened, but then Pat is looking down at his crotch and he momentarily forgot that he is still hard. Without Pat's body, the wet spot on his pants is cooling. Pat is crowding in, resting the weight of his knees on Artemi's thighs, pushing him back against the headboard with one hand. Artemi doesn't know what happens first: Pat kissing him aggressively, wanting to prove something or Pat taking out his dick and stroking so hard and fast.  

He knows he's moaning but can't hear it against the loud pulse of his heart in his ears. It's all too much. The weight of Pat is cutting off the circulation to his legs, but the ache – he pulls Pat more firmly against him. He remembers then that Pat is almost naked, and the thrill of touching more skin is cut short when Pat restrains his arm against the bed. Artemi whines. He's left to weakly tug at his shirt with his other hand while Pat builds more and more pressure at the head of his cock. He feels the hint of a nail as Pat slides his thumb down the slit, and Artemi gasps through his orgasm. 

Pat gives him a quick peck and a wink before pulling back, taking his knees off him. Artemi sighs happily. This isn't at all what he had in mind this morning.  

He feels the glide of a finger run through the cum on his stomach, drawing his attention back to Pat, who inserts his thumb into his mouth, licking it clean of his cum. Artemi wants to see that again but more awake. Instead he says, "Happy birthday." 

Pat laughs, his grin so wide even with the tip of his thumb nestled between his teeth. "Was this my gift?" 

It warms Artemi to see him so happy again, unburden by whatever thoughts he had before. Because, in reality, Pat has been his gift all these years. His friendship matters more to him than anything else. It was Pat that chose him and has become the family he has longed for all these years. To call Pat family inadvertently lessens who his parents and sister and grandparents are to him, but at times it feels like what they are is another title given to them by blood, a title that holds a small impact on his heart. 

But it doesn't make him sad. Not anymore. 

He grabs Pat, wraps his arms around his neck and legs around his waist, hoping he understands. They both laugh, caught up in their antics. Artemi plants an playful kiss on his cheek. It should be gross and weird with the cum and sweat drying and that they're mostly naked, but that's not want he feels. 

When Artemi finally lets go, Pat says, "We need a shower." 

"I can't go back to my room like this." The possibility of running into one of his sisters – or worse his parents – smelling like jizz terrifies him. 

But Pat has a dumb grin. "I have a bathroom right here." The way Pat says that Artemi knows he's offering more than just a shower.

**Author's Note:**

> title from 'tonight' by lykki li. i'm putting the fic proper for this verse on hold for a different story. a million thanks to my one and only.


End file.
